The Throne Card
by Weir the Warlock
Summary: Kezreck finds out he owns a keep- if he and his friends can drive out the monsters that already live there. Sequel to the Hatori Graveyard.
1. Chapter 1

The Dark Fellowship

The Throne Card

Chapter One

The rain crashed down on the four riders, yet the heavy cloaks they wore kept them dry for the most part. Beneath his cloak the tallest, bulkiest of the four bore on his back a small chest laden with platinum and gold ingots- a remnant of the loot he and his companions claimed from the fabled burial mounds of creatures called hatori, deep in desert in the south. The rider to his right hid the plethora of various gems also acquired from that episode in his backpack. They rode on reptilian beasts with curved beaks sharp talons on their forelegs.

The four stopped before the stable, close enough for the hired hand unlucky enough to have to work in the rain to make out their mounts but too far for him to discern anything more detailed. Garadon, the only one of the four able to pass for human, dismounted; while approaching the youth he (or it, when not impersonating someone of another race) lowered his hood to show the face of a handsome, nondescript human male.

While the doppelganger's appearance may have put the stable boy slightly at ease, the youth couldn't help pointing at the mounts the four showed up on, "Those animals- I don't know if this is the place…"

"They're called Croltom," Garadon replied, "And they need no shelter tonight. I was wondering if you could direct me and my friends to Steelward Tower."

"Steel- oh right," the boy remembered the original name for what the locals now called Stoneruin, "Past those closed up mines," the youth pointed toward what looked like several hills to the northeast, "But I should tell you, once the local iron veins dried up the place was deserted- they say monsters live there now."

"Oh? Well, thank you for the information," Garadon slipped the boy a silver piece for his trouble then returned to his companions. He looked to the one name Kezreck- seven feet of muscle with protruding ears and a bear-like nose- and said to him, "It seems you have squatters on your manse, milord."

Three weeks earlier…

The four yet to be known as the Dark Fellowship stalked dangerous quarry on foot. They followed a path that appeared to be made from a giant snake yet was coated in slime no respectable serpent would ever give off.

It would be naive to think the creature was not a slithering plague; even though they made no plans to get too close precautions would be taken. Their resident healer Path-Chak, standing on two of his six insectoid limbs, telepathically cast Protection from Disease upon himself, and by touching the other three each with one of his four upper arms, them as well.

They tracked the monster to a yawning cave. Littered about its lair were strewn the shattered bones of previous meals, including several croltorm. Indeed the beast had brought another of the reptiles to its lair moments ago; and undoubtedly was already tearing the unlucky animal apart with its multiple pairs of jaws- the very reason the four hunted it in the first place.

Aside from the fear of disease none of the four liked the notion of fighting within the cramped confines of the cave- better the beast should come to them. As they planned Kezreck alone stood out in the open; one hand hovering above the metal sphere that hung from his belt while the other readied a crude javelin. The spear's haft came from local wood but its head was a serrated tooth he'd pulled from the carcass of a hatori- the dreaded 'crocodiles of the sands'.

Kezreck's allies kept behind the treeline. In addition to the shape-shifter Garadon and the thri-kreen Path-Chak stood Shoutanei, a dark-skinned elf educated in the ways of wizardry, wearing a heavy robe holding in one hand a staff that formerly was the femur of a once long-legged, unidentified organism.

Lifting a free hand the dark-elf (or drow) cast an enchantment to lure the beast from its roost. Though known as Minor Illusion it was as capable or creating false sounds as sights- in this instance the clanging sounds of a company of armed, armoured warriors on the attack.

At first what seemed the heads of six snakes emerged; soon after they revealed themselves to be multiple heads of the same serpent! From further down along its body stretched two tentacles, each terminating in pads from which filthy, sharp spines protruded. Out of that cave bolted the dreaded Gulguthydra.

Nature would never have allowed the merger of a hydra and the scavenger of other beings' filth known as the otyugh, and Shoutanei suspected the first such freaks came from the experiments of a foolhardy (and hopefully long dead) wizard who felt he simply had to play the Creator. Nevertheless one was here now, and the four had taken employment toward rectifying that situation.

Plucking the sphere from his belt Kezreck hurled it toward the beast; once it got close enough Shoutanei yelled the command word "Bludstuk!". At once the sphere- the Iron Bands of Bilarro- unravelled to truss up the gulguthydra- until the combined strength of its six necks and two tentacles broke it free.

Falling back on their contingency plan Garadon and Path-Chak diverted the beast's attention from Kezreeck; Garadon with his shortbow while Path-Chak hurled two triangular throwing blades he called chatkcha. The missiles failed to inflict serious harm but succeeded as a distraction while Shoutanei cast the spell he had prepared for this situation. At once a mass of black tentacles stabbed from beneath the gulguthydra's serpentine body, pummelling, grappling and more importantly- preoccupying it.

While most would-be heroes died attacking an ordinary hydra's multiple heads the four took a different approach; while the tentacle spell kept the monster busy Garadon's arrows and Kezreck's javeli penetrating the aberration's single heart. Once the six necks stopped thrashing and Garadon could no longer sense the heads' surface thoughts (crude and simple they may be), the four approached the monster- stopping when they saw it's leaking blood kill the grass it touched, sending tufts of smoke into the air.

"Damn," Kezreck muttered, "Even the thing's blood is toxic."

"Yes," Garadon pondered this; emptying his quiver he plated the arrows into the dirt soaked with toxic monster blood. After a minute or so he replaced them, while Kezreck stretched out his arm to retrieve his javelin- the haft pulled free but the spear's toothy head remained lodged in the beast's heart.

Kezreck decided some souvenirs weren't worth recovering.

Lashing the gulguthydra's severed heads to an impromptu travois as proof of their deed, the four returned to their temporary employers who greeted them with cheers. A swarthy breed of human, the nomadic Norami were a people who suffered from a reputation almost as sinister as that of drow or bugbears- except for most Norami the infamy was largely undeserved. This particular caravan used croltorm as mounts and beasts of burden; when the gulguthydra started preying on their animals they had sought help- and found the four, offering in payment a croltorm as a mount for each, as they were lacking in gold and gem.

A youth approached, leading the beasts promised by their bridles. He also handed them bags of feed- insisting that despite their appearance the animals could digest oats as easily as flesh, even if they did seem to prefer the latter.

As the four turned they heard the creaky vice of a Norami matron call them toward the wagon on which she sat; when they came closer she asked through gaped teeth, "You lost something when you killed that monster, didn't you?"

Taking a guess at what she meant Shoutanei answered, "The gulguthydra destroyed something that had helped us take down a dragon," referring to the lost magical restraints it had broken out of.

"Oh- that too," the matron replied, "Perhaps I can compensate in some way," from within the folds of her robe she brought forth a deck of cards fashioned from dirty ivory, "Have any of you ever heard of the Deck of Many Things?"

"I have," Garadon backed a step, "Depending on the card one draws he either benefits from some blessing or brings upon himself a horrible- if not fatal curse," He turned to his allies, "If any of you want to gamble with your lives this way I won't stop you, but you would be better to cut our losses."

Kezreck snorted at the uneasy expressions on their faces, "Pansies," then before they could stop him he plucked a card with a king's throne on one face.

For a second the bugbear almost swooned but righted himself; telling his concerned friends he felt different, he felt a little more- charming, though he'd still be boorish by most people's standards. Then he noticed the card he picked had somehow changed places with a sheet of parchment; bringing it closer he read, "Deed to the fortress known as…"

"It's a legal document," Shoutanei started, "Proves that you rightfully-"

"I know WHAT a deed is," Kezreck snapped back, "I just never heard of this Steelward Tower before. Hey lady-"

But the woman was gone- along with her wagon. Except for the croltorm handed over as payment, the entire caravan had vanished.

"I hate it when people do that," Kezreck grunted.


	2. Chapter 2

The Dark Fellowship

The Throne Card

Chapter Two

The Present night…

Stopping at the foot of a hill from which peasant folk once mined iron, the four dismounted. They tied the bridles of their reptilian mounts to wooden stakes which they then hammered into the grassy ground. That done they crawled up the mound on their bellies.

Keeping as low to the grass as possible they peered out at the fortification now known as Stoneruin. Despite the unflattering moniker the keep itself, and the wall surrounding it remained structurally sound, though the wall gates and main door into the tower proper had been ripped away long ago. The stable by the keep's side owed its continued existence mostly to being constructed more from brick than wood. Various disgusting noises echoed from every aperture; occasionally a face peeped out of a window or arrow-slit. Muscular forms with long horns curving from their heads patrolled the rooftop, armed either with heavy axes or swords taller than they were.

"Minotaurs," Kezreck hissed, "And Hruggek knows what else, stinking up my keep." Path-Chak telepathically wondered 'out loud' if, even should the four expel the fort's current inhabitants, the humans of this land would consider a bugbear's claim of possession legally binding.

Shoutanei saw Garadon look to the watertight covering of his unstrung bow, "Don't even think of wasting your arrows," the drow said, "We're not going to get rid of them that way." As it happened, the presence of the petered-out mines gave him a better idea, "But we won't be able to bring the croltorm with us…"

The stable hand who had been told earlier the croltorm needed no shelter now nervously led the animals into the stalls. As instructed he also set up a bag of feed for each, though they did not look the plant-eating type to him.

Garadon opened his palm to show the young man four rubies, each about the size of the stable-hand's thumb- rubies he had pried off a ruined mithral helmet he and his friends found among the spoils in the hatori graveyard.

"The equivalent of these in coin," He started, "Should be more than enough to pay for their care until I return, understood?" How long would pass before the mounts could be reclaimed was uncertain, and aside from Kezreck's grumbling they decided it might be better to risk paying too much than not enough. The stable hand nodded, and Garadon overturned his hand, dropping the gems into the youth's waiting palm.

Watching from afar with the others, Kezreck mourned the loss of the rubies. Profitable as the expedition to the hatori burial grounds had seemed, just the bare essentials had gradually sapped away at the fortune they had gathered. The goblinoid turned his head to look down at the dark elf, "This idea of yours had better be worth it."

Later in the following day Garadon acquired another necessity in the form of a lodestone. This device had cost them a small sapphire- again to Kezreck's lament- but Shoutanei insisted they would need it for orientation where they were going. Waiting until nightfall, the four gathered before a sealed entrance to one of the depleted iron mines. Shoutanei directed the others to remove the boards that blocked the entrance, then went in ahead of them. Though they shared the gift of darkvision, all of them but Shoutanei had lived most of their lives on or close to the surface world, thus they would not know what to look for, as the wizard did.

The first two emptied mines amounted to dead ends yet the drow insisted on searching the rest; Kezreck whined this search was pointless, yet rushed to catch up when the others went on ahead. Just when even Garadon's patience started to where thin Shoutanei indicated a boulder of granite that, once moved, no longer hid a passage sloping down toward the world beneath the world- the infamous Underdark, that Shouatnei had known for just over a century of life.

It was at the point where the passage narrowed so much Kezreck started feeling the onset of claustrophobia when the tunnel led to a cavernous pocket of air almost spacious enough to accommodate a keep itself and leading to multiple passages around. They used the lodestone to gauge Stoneruin's direction, as they started to move cries of despair echoed from one of the tunnels.

Too far for Garadon to sense anything, the four quietly moved through a winding tunnel in the rock; what would have been a seventy-foot distance above ground twisted more than a hundred. Soon Garadon felt the rage and grief of two captives- and a gloating captor.

Shoutanei carefully peered around the cave mouth, facing from behind a misshapen giant whose hunched form still nearly brushed the ceiling; with a tiny, vestigial arm beneath the one that clutched a massive broken-off stalactite of a club, with which the giant threatened two chained up humanoid-sized prisoners.

As for the captives themselves, shackled up before the giant was a bald she-dwarf and a shaggy, stark-white humanoid form with a face more bear-like than Kezreck's. Piled up against a cavern wall was packs of gear too small the giant- likely they belonged to his prisoners. Shoutanei ducked back before anybody could spot him.

In the days since their leaving the hatori burial mounds in the desert Shoutanei had been tutoring the group in the sign language of the drow so the group would have a means of communication others could not overhear; returning to the group he now used this language to convey what he saw, "The giant is a Fomorion, it is said they can curse one by looking on him with an 'evil eye'. I saw two captives- a grey dwarf alongside a Quaggoth- creatures my people have in the past brought on raids against our surface cousins- as sword fodder."

Kezreck silently asked the mage what the fomorian's likely plans for the prisoners might be; Shoutanei suspected the two would be worked to death tending fungus farms in the giant's cave- but if the four prevented that from happening they might gain some useful allies. The rest agreed.

Deciding to hit the fomorian with his hardest prepared spell Shoutanei sent a bolt of lightning into the behemoth's back, causing grievous injury. Unfortunately not grievous enough, as the giant raised his calcium cudgel and whirled around to counterattack. As the colossus did so Garadon shot an arrow into the first eye to turn their way should it be the evil eye the wizard spike of; the giant covered the wounded orb with his free hand- then dropped the club before keeling over stone dead. Garadon was as surprised as any.

They heard the giant's former captives shuffle their way, "Whoever you are," the quaggoth started, "We are grateful for what you have-" the remaining words died when he saw Shoutanei's face.

"Drow!" the quaggoth snarled as he attempted to leap to attack; but because of the short chain that connected the binds on his ankles to those on his wrists he only managed to fall on his face, embarrassing himself.

"Rather rude reaction," Shoutanei stated.

The quaggoth heaved onto all fours- the closest to rising to his feet he could do in present circumstances, hissing in reply, "I am the sworn hunter of all drow who would place my people between themselves and the spears of their enemies!"

To the quaggoth's surprise Shoutanei smiled, "Then we have something in common." Kezreck and Path-Chak each flanked a prisoner to discourage any bad ideas like attacking once released. Garadon approached the dead giant to look for a key to the prisoners' chains, then thought better of it.

Instead he picked the locks of their shackles himself. Those that bound the quaggoth seemed unremarkable steel, but the she-dwarf's manacles briefly glowed for a moment once the last lock was picked.

"Magic," she said with a sinister look, "To keep me from doing this!" an instant later the dwarf towered over the three of them; but when she saw that instead of the four cowering three raised weapons toward and Shoutanei raise his hand as if to hit her with a lightning bolt (a bluff, not expecting to battle a giant the other offensive spells Shoutanei had prepared were geared for enemies more his own size) she reconsidered and returned to her previous height.

The former prisoners slowly went to retrieve their gear, careful not to take any actions that would seem hostile. Buckling on his armour the quaggoth looked to the wizard, "What's your name, drow?"

"Shoutanei," The wizard saw no need to lie; even had the quaggoth heard of him (unlikely in itself), it was doubtful the creature had any interest in slaying or capturing a fugitive from his favoured enemy.

"I am Corrag," the quaggoth gave in response, "This is Weltha," he gestured to the she-dwarf, "We have labours of our own and must be off- but we will not forget what you four have done for us this day." With that, they left through one of the passageways leading from the cavern.

A silence followed the departure of the dwarf and quaggoth, until Kezreck casually wondered out loud, "You don't suppose those two are- you know…"

"Probably best not to dwell too deeply on the matter," Shoutanei replied, "This was a waste of time, better we leave." They made for the tunnel they emerged from; Garadon stopped to pluck his arrow from the formorian's eye, then looked back at the sets of manacles. He had ruined the locks on the chains; to hold anyone now they would need to be welded shut with heat or Shoutanei's magic.

Still, they could prove useful, if only to hit someone very hard with, so the doppelganger collected them before catching up with the others.

Back in the cavern they originally entered, the four used Garadon's lodestone to reacquaint themselves with the direction in which Stoneruin lay, then found a (relatively) straightforward tunnel that eventually led to a slow incline to what looked like the flat stone used in a building's foundation- with a breach more than wide enough to grant any of the four passage.

The party took a few cautious steps before Shoutanei motioned for them to stop, then raised his hand toward some strange markings that had been chiselled into the rock wall of the passageway.

As the dark elves frequently but watchfully treated with the tentacle-mouthed creatures known alternatively as illithids or 'Mind-Flayers', prospective drow wizards were taught in the ways of the brain-eating abominations, including their use of qualith, a 'written' language they carved into the rock halls of the underdark. Qualith was so alien in its construction that many of even a gifted magus had to decode it with magic; Shoutanei himself was confused to read directions toward a cavern leading to someplace called the 'Underland'. If it was another name for the Underdark, this was the first time he had ever seen its use.

"There'll be time to make sense of it another day," the wizard said to his compatriots, "Right now we have a fort to claim." With that, they looked again toward the breach in the foundation wall…


	3. Chapter 3

The Dark Fellowship

The Throne Card

Chapter Three

Dannikho dropped the unconscious goblin he had been carrying in his mouth onto the stone floor. While he waited for the creature to come to, he looked around the feasting hall he had come to claim as his lair. Splinters and broken planks remained the only evidence of chairs and feasting tables that had flanked a carpeted walkway leading to the raised stone on which the keep's warden would have sat in the past. Amidst those shattered tables and seats rested the few remains of his past bodies, where the few of the creatures that had come to take this hall for their own actually succeeded in striking him down, only to gasp in terror and bewilderment to see him return whole, never more than a week later. They, however, could never manage to reappear so easily themselves.

Sounds of the humanoid stirring brought Dannikho out of his reverie. He looked down, seeing the goblin rub his eyes, then stare up at him in terror. Sometimes they fainted on the spot; fortunately this particular goblin was made of sterner stuff, though not by much. Screaming at the top of his lungs the little creature ran toward any direction away from the master of the hall, ending up easily herded into the hall's massive hearth, his pursuer blocking any avenue of escape.

"I know as an immortal I don't really need to eat," Dannikho taunted the cringing goblin, his voice with the hiss of a serpent, "But I do so enjoy it- especially when the meal is shaking in terror," he struck down, his jaws wide open…

Beneath the grassy grounds of the surface world, the four carefully advanced up the sloping tunnel leading to a breach in the keep's foundation. Once they came within sixty feet of the opening Garadon's head was flooded with the surface thoughts of too many different beings at once to make out. Motioning for the others to stay put, he crept on further for lone reconnaissance.

From the rust stains indicating shelves had lined the walls and occasional shattered bottle, Garadon deduced the room the breach opened to once served as a wine cellar. A staircase spiralled into the floor above at the opposite wall, to his left an earthen ramp rose to meet the open air of the keep grounds- the likely entrance and exit of choice for the group of ogres sitting in the room's centre, noisily masticating on whatever poor creature it was that cruel fate had allowed them to catch. None noticed the thief slink back down to rejoin his allies.

After the doppelganger informed the others of what he saw they huddled together to come up with a plan. Their final strategy was fairly simple, one might even call it crude. Shoutanei, Garadon and Path-Chak quietly crept into the cellar, sneaking around the circle of ogres who heard nothing and never bothered to so much as look up. Astounded how creatures so lacking in alertness could live as long as they have, Garadon drew one dagger, stepped up behind an ogre, and slashed the brute's throat, bringing forth a fountain of blood that splashed onto the giant's brethren.

While this occurred Shoutanei was alreading casting M'Harl's Acid Arrow (which surface dwellers strangely insisted was named after some fool called Melf); before his outstretched palm a green bolt materialized, then shot into the open maw of an ogress, who fell on her back, clutching her mouth and screaming in pain before she finally lay still. Path-Chak impaled the nearest brute with one blade on the double-headed polearm he called a gythka; at the same time his left lower arm flung a chatkcha into the throat of an ogre across from him. All of this happened within moments.

Registering the deaths of his kin the last ogre leapt to his feet, raising a length of oak with several broken sword blades stabbed through the other end. Before he could decide which attacker to pulp first Kezreck performed his part of the plan; crouching down low he ran for between the ogre's legs, his shoulders colliding with the back of the brute's knees. The giant fell backward, his skull struck the stone floor and he lost what consciousness he had.

About an hour later while they waited for the ogre to come to so they could question him, Kezreck approached one wall to inspect the ruins of what had been finely crafted shelves holding bottles of exquisite vintage. Picking up what remained of one such bottle the bugbear, who had always considered himself a bit of a sensualist- as much as any of his ilk ever would be- brought the glass closer to his face and sniffed it.

"Damn," dropping the glass he shook his head in sorrow, "What a waste". Sounds from behind him got his attention; as he turned the ogre was stirring. Waking to see the faces of his attackers the brute growled but found he could neither stand or stretch out his arms to attack- both his wrists and ankles were bound in the chains Garadon had freed Corrag and Weltha from. Path-Chak pressed one end of his gythka close to the giant's neck.

Shoutanei made sure to use simple words, "You want to live, you tell us what we need to know- got that?" the ogre nodded, "Good- what else lives here?"

"Many. Family of trolls in horse house, Cow-men on uppest floors. Goblins in small beds, green witch in big bed. Tiny, one-eyed runt in book room- rot your flesh just looking at you," the ogre answered.

"What about the main hall?" Kezreck asked.

The ogre smiled, "Big black snake that speaks."

Shoutanei glowered at hearing this, "Black snake know magic?"

The ogre nodded, "And has many lives. Something kills it, it comes back days later- kills them. That's all- you let me go, right?"

The four very well might have- if they harboured any illusions that the brute could be trusted to keep his word. Sadly one did not need a doppelganger's limited prescience to tell this giant would only return with more of his kind to attack them at the most inopportune moment.

Path-Chak pulled away his gythka; as the ogre smiled Kezreck brought his spiked mace crashing down on the giant's skull, reducing it to pulp, "And that's for what you bastards did to the bottles here!" the bugbear snarled.

"I suspect that damage was done long before any of these moved in," Shoutanei stated, "In any case we have other worries, the snake that speaks he described sounds disturbingly similar to a Spirit Naga. It is said there are only two ways to prevent one's resurrection- a magic ritual the snake-men known as the Yuan-ti keep to themselves and a wish spell- which, even assuming I did know, could be more dangerous than the naga itself if I didn't phrase it carefully."

Path-Chak telepathically 'asked' if, because of this revelation, the four were going to reconsider any claim they might make on the structure. As it was Kezreck's name on the deed and not theirs, three faces looked to him.

Kezreck thought long on this. True, an unkillable snake with magic abilities seemed like trouble one didn't need, especially over an deserted fort he never heard of until he plucked a card from a tarot deck.

And yet all his life the bugbear had only known two kinds of roof over his head- a wet cave he might have to abandon at a moment's notice, or a holding cell in a city of humans. This was his first shot at a true home- something that was *his*. For now, if they worried about the squatters they could kill…

He looked up at the others, his decision made, "I say we start with the trolls."

On his way out to hunt, Gutrot smelled dead ogre in the air. Sure enough, when he followed the scent he found all five of the brutes dumped outside the cellar doorway. Rather than concern himself with who had even killed the giants, let alone dumped the bodies where they now lay, he simply gathered his kin to drag the convenient morsels inside their man-made den.

A few minutes after the bodies had been carried off, Shoutanei went up the ramp, then took the long way around the keep. Even before he saw the stable he could hear the sounds of feeding- the trolls made even more noise than the ogres they ate.

Once the dark elf was close enough, he cast a fireball through the stable entrance, flinching at the explosion that followed, waiting until the screaming stopped before he returned to the others.

Gathered before the keep wall, Garadon shot his grappling hook toward a window on the highest floor; when it caught they scaled the wall, taking the fight to the minotaurs that had claimed the higher stories for themselves.

Next the four started hunting down the goblins who took the keep's smaller bedrooms, exterminating them one by one. The master bedchamber's ironbound door remained; if the so-called 'green witch' within heard what was happening outside, she did not concern herself with it.

Garadon's bow readied, Shoutanei used his illusion magic to create the image of a human mage standing before the entrance to the keep's library. Several shrieks of frustration later, a human-sized but hunched-over creature emerged to claw at the apparition. Garadon put an arrow through the single massive eye that was taking up the majority of the creature's gibbering face.

Despite the ogre's insistence that the library had but one occupant they felt better to make sure. Shoutanei cast cloudkill on the room; once the poison fumes had subsided Garadon moved in, another arrow nocked, to sweep the library with Shoutanei following, ready with another offensive spell.

They found no hostiles, live or dead, but something did capture the wizard's notice. A painted mural occupied the entirety of one wall. That years of filth and vandalism on the part of the many creatures that moved in only to be forced out over the years had failed to mar it was in itself a miracle; to say nothing of the work. Grand castles towered from islands of rock suspended in an endless, storm-wracked ocean of sky. In the wall's centre a wooden walkway with a bronze railing rose from where the mural met the floor, creating the illusion one could step onto it into the scene.

It seemed so real he had to touch it to be sure it was only painted on.

'Another mystery for another time,' Shoutanei told himself; 'Once the structure is ours'. Lately this little undertaking had uncovered many mysteries.

With her back to a heavy oak door, the hag Granny Ghastly sat on her haunches, seeking omens from a goblin's entrails.

While the so-called green witch appreciated the convenience of so many of the runts in the keep, a near endless supply of subjects for her grisly divinations- she did wish they would keep the noise down. And earlier today the racket had been even worse than usual! With all the screeching and yelling, one would think somebody had stormed the fort and was killing them all.

The battering down of the door behind her caught the hag completely by surprise; Granny had been one of the first creatures to claim a space in the keep since its desertion by humankind and NO ONE here ever dared to incur her wrath- well maybe the spirit naga, but she knew better than to antagonize him and he never came to this floor anyway.

Unready for an armed intrusion, with no spells for attack on hand the hag made herself invisible; once she slipped past she would return prepared, perhaps even enlist the naga's aid in taking her haven back.

There were four of them, she saw as she turned around, from their darting glances across the room and the frustrated expressions that came after she had concealed herself in time. Slinking past the goblinoid and the bug standing on its tiptoes, she spared a glance at the handsome human- who flashed a smile! The realization that he saw her froze Granny Ghastly on the spot long enough for him to plunge a dagger into her shrunken heart.

Kezreck and Path-Chak turned and saw the hag become visible as she died on Garadon's blade. The doppelganger dragged her body into the hall and Shoutanei stepped further into what had been the master bedchambers.

The condition of the room took the word ransacked to new extremes, and he didn't even want to know why a disembowelled goblin was laid down in the floor's centre. The only furnishing of the original occupants not totally destroyed was a chest shoved into the corner and even that was covered with grime.

The chest. Remembering something Shoutanei reached into his robes and pulled out his spellbook. On the group's trek toward the hatori graveyard they had crossed paths with the mage/priestess leader of a gang of desert giant bandits. Unpleasant though that encounter had been, from her cold dead hands the wizard had found and copied a spell wholly new to him. Reacquainting himself with the spell, he rushed over to see if the trunk would serve his needs.

It rose as high as the keep warden's bed once did and was half as wide. It was presently filled with the hag's many gruesome trophies but undamaged, save for filth that could be cleaned off. Just as important- it was crafted from platinum, with gold trim.

It could work- maybe.

"I might have a way to deal with the naga," Shoutanei exclaimed, "It wouldn't kill it, but it might get it out of the way until we can find a more permanent solution. However, we will need to find someone to craft a replica of that-" he pointed to the chest, "And from the same materials."

Hearing this Kezreck, who still bore the remaining gold and platinum from the hatori adventure on his back, backed up against the nearest wall, "Oh no. Ever since we left the desert this loot has been slipping through our fingers like sand, we are not throwing more of it away on a plan you're not even sure will work!"

"Fine," the wizard countered, "Then you can either give up any claim to this place, or get used to sharing it with an immortal, sorcerous serpent who, for all we know, considers bugbears to be a delicacy."

Kezreck glared at the dark elf, then wracked his brains looking for a fourth option. Finally he lowered his head, grumbled something about hating when someone else is right, then looked up and asked, "How much would you need?"

On the blank side of a page torn from a ruined book retrieved from the keep library, Shoutanei used a stick of charcoal to sketch the shape of the chest, then mark the minimum dimensions needed for the replica and a rough estimate of how much of the platinum and gold would be required. Garadon left to get the replica made, while Path-Chak and Kezreck hefted the chest up to the roof so they could dump out its contents over the side. Kezreck vowed that Shoutanei would help clean the rest of it, though.

Ardrik brought the hammer down on steel. Usually the dwarf enjoyed his work but today was special. A few nights earlier a passing gnome who fancied himself a minstrel had performed a clichéd, badly-sung ballad (he slapped drums, for Moradin's sake) about four intrepid souls finding treasure in the deep desert. And since then every child in the village had their heads filled with pipe dreams about becoming adventurers themselves; all three Taber boys had approached him about crafting them longswords- where they got the coin to pay for them he didn't know and strongly suspected he didn't want to.

In fact Ardrik almost told the brats to get lost, but if he didn't make the swords they'd find another smith who would, and no one else in these parts could craft a decent horseshoe. Maybe if someone who knew what he was doing armed them their chances of survival would slightly increase.

"Ho there!" the dwarf looked up at an unfamiliar human, "They say you're the best smith around here," the stranger said, "Ever work with gold or platinum?"

"I'm experienced with both, though you'd never know it from my present surroundings," Ardrik replied. Something about this human felt off to him.

But Ardrik decided whatever the stranger wanted, it couldn't be worse than helping the Taber boys get themselves killed, "What do you have in mind?"

The stranger showed him a sketch and dimensions for a tiny chest- then produced the precious metal ingots he wanted used. Then he reached into his backpack and produced a diamond the size of Ardrik's fist.

"This diamond," the stranger said, "And any excess gold or platinum should pay for the work, should it not?"

Ardik plucked the diamond from the stranger's hand to inspect it more closely. He knew his gems and this was the real thing. Besides what harm could a little box cause compared to blades in foolish hands?

Passing the diamond back to the stranger Ardrik said, "Pay me when the job is done." He shoved the swords aside; human life was short enough, those boys could wait to put themselves in the ground a little while longer.

Dannikho returned to his lair, confused and frankly, a little upset. Like the past couple days he had hunted for a goblin snack but failed to find any goblins, normally the keep was infested with them. In fact somebody had seemed to have been thoroughly killing off the resident monsters- the trolls in the stables, the nothic from the library, even that tail-kissing hag was gone. How long before whoever responsible decided to move against him?

"Greetings, great naga." Danniko heard a voice from behind, as if the cosmos itself decided to answer his silent question. Behind him walked in a dark-skinned elf, clad in a wool robe with a book hanging from one sleeve.

Dannikho snorted in contempt; mortal wizards- no matter how much they supposedly learned, they still cowered before a mighty Spirit Naga. This drow even held up both hands.

Then it occurred to him- the elf's hands were empty. Didn't most mortal wizards need some fancy staves or orbs or such to cast their spells?

The serpent rose higher, "And who dares approach the great Dannikho?" Another naga might have tried to charm the elf into obedience, but elves were known for being able to resist mind-affecting magic and besides, Dannikho prided himself on not needing to resort to such compulsions.

"An emissary of Kezreck the Great," the drow answered, "The rightful lord and master of this here keep."

Dannikho laughed at the arrogance, "Tell your great Kezreck he may own this place on a scrap of parchment, but I have faced down all who thought they could dislodge me from this hall- my hall."

"Your hall," the elf showed no sign he was impressed, "Only because you're too stupid to know how to stay dead!"

"How dare you!" The naga bellowed.

"I hear you hunt goblins," The drow continued to taunt, "Do forest gnomes put up too much of a fight?"

Dannikho reared up even higher, "You choose your words wisely, little elf, or-"

As he focused on the impudent trespasser something struck Dannikho's scaled hide, angering him even further. He turned to see a three-pronged blade on the floor- one edged stained with his blood. By the time he turned back the elf was bolting out from where he came.

Making a left turn the intruder looked to Kezreck and Path-Chak waiting in the corridor, "We've pissed him off, now RUN!"

They made a distance of perhaps twenty feet when Danniko appeared before them, jaw open in a smile of sadistic glee.

Instead of cowering they dropped to the floor; behind them Dannikho saw something that confused him- long enough to be struck by a lance of lightning that shot over the backs of his would-be victims.

The naga shrieked in agony as the electricity tore through him, bursting his eyes, charring his flesh. For good measure a volley of Magic Missile bolts shot into his open mouth, punching a hole through the back of his skull.

Dannikho's corpse fell backward, crashing onto the floor.

Holding his staff but wearing only his underclothes, Shoutanei stepped from farther down the hall where he had lain in wait. His companions rose to their feet; Garadon, who was in the wizard's robe reverted to his (its, one might argue) true form.

Shoutanei looked to the doppelganger, "You played the part of me rather well."

"Maybe for someone who's never met you," Kezreck puffed out his chest, "Me- I wouldn't have been fooled for a second."

"Of course not," the wizard chose to humour him, "But in case you had forgotten, we're not finished with him yet." Garadon got of Shoutanei's robe, then helped Kezreck and Path-Chak drag the naga's remains to the main hall's fireplace while Shoutanei redressed.

Over the next few hours they burned Dannikho's body inside the hearth, then shovelled the ashes and charred bones into the chest recovered from the master bedchambers. Finally Garadon, Kezreck and Path-Chak watched as Shoutanei, standing before the chest and replica performed the spell; touching both chest and replica each with an outstretched arm, the chest abruptly vanished.

A silence hung in the air until Kezreck asked, "Okay- what just happened?"

Shoutanei turned to answer him, "I just sent the chest and it contents to the Ethereal Plane. If I am right about the naga reforming near the remains of the last body it died in, he should resurrect there instead of here,"

"That's a rather big if," the bugbear told him, "And even if you're right he vanished from this room and came back in the corridor right in front of us- how do we know he can't do the same from the ether- wherever you sent him?"

"We don't," Shoutanei admitted, "From what I was taught about the naga he used a spell known as Dimension Door which, despite the name, doesn't entail actually moving from one dimension to another. But you are correct- there is the possibility he could make his way back on his own. I did warn the lot of you that this was a gamble."

Path-Chak told the other three that they would find out if the naga returned in a few days, but in any event they could do nothing about it; until then they should place the replica connected to the spell somewhere it wouldn't be found and do what they could to make this keep inaccessible to more mundane trespassers.

First they returned to the bedchambers the hag had claimed to inspect the door they had battered down. Its hinges were completely ruined but miraculously the door itself remained sturdy and could make a serviceable replacement for the keep's main entrance. As by now the payment for stabling their mounts was almost up Garadon volunteered to have the smith who crafted the replica make some new hinges on his way to recover the croltorm. When he came back they worked toward making mud bricks with which to seal up all the windows large enough to allow entry to anything the size of a kobold or larger. The entrance to the cellar ramp which the ogres used, they boarded up with planks converted from bookshelves in the keep library.

A week later- with the spirit naga having yet to return- all that remained was the breach in the wine cellar, which they themselves had used to infiltrate the keep.

While others could use it against them, they still thought an alternate way in and out of the fort might one day be necessary. Shoutanei in particular wanted to be able to one day investigate that message chiselled into the cavern wall, the directions to the 'Underland'.

It was finally agreed the breach should be covered with a barrier, but one they could move aside when they needed or desired passage through it themselves. They were discussing the best way about that when from above and outside the sounds of trumpets blasted. Bolting up to the keep's higher levels they found arrow slits to look out into.

Before the open entrance in the wall surrounding the keep was column of knights on horseback. Human archers stood behind them, longbows ready. On either side of the knights were the trumpeters who announced the host's arrival.

It seemed the dark fellowship's efforts to claim this fort had not gone unnoticed by the lord of this land…


End file.
